Page 33 of Shadow Angel
“It’s my job to make sure the dancers are okay and I’m sure you need that more than me.” Tom waved away the money. “I’ll walk you to your ride just in case someone wants to get friendly.”
Always suspicious, Beth studied his face and then nodded. He wasn’t being charming at all, more like businesslike. She followed him outside. “Thanks.”
As they emerged from the path between the trees and into the parking lot, the grinning faces of the stage huggers greeted her. Styles and Ryder were long gone and it was just as well Tom was with her or things would have gotten nasty. She glared at Steve Smith and Jace Conan as they moved closer. “What do you want?”
“We saw you looking at us.” Conan smiled at her. “We came all the way from Rattlesnake Creek to watch you dance and we’ve booked a room at the local motel so we can party.”
Continuing to walk toward her vehicle, Beth snorted. “Well, you have yourself some fun now.”
“Aw come on, Crystal.” Smith came toward her. “It won’t be a party without you.”
“Move along.” Tom moved between her and held out both hands toward the men. “There are more dancers due onstage. Why don’t you go and watch them? We don’t want any trouble, do we?”
While Tom distracted them, Beth hurried to Nate’s SUV and slid inside, locking the doors behind her. She took the com from the glovebox, pushed the tiny battery pack into her pocket, and slid the wireless receiver into one ear. It was invisible under her wig, but she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror just to be sure. Starting the engine, she headed out of the parking lot and onto the dark winding road back to the highway. She tapped her earpiece. “Cash, are you out there?”
“Yeah, you should see my lights as I come out of a side road.”Ryder’s engine roared in her ear.“Can you see me now?”
Relieved to see headlights sweep across the blacktop and taillights moving ahead of her, Beth accelerated into the night. “I see you. I’m right behind.”
“Stay back some or it will be obvious you’re following me.”
Beth eased up on the gas. “Copy.”
Trying to ignore the thickening mist and the heavy weight of apprehension, Beth ran possible scenarios through her mind. If the killer had taken the bait, how would he come for her? It was a given he knew his way around a miners’ cabin, so gaining entrance wouldn’t be an issue. Nervous tension gripped her as she drove off the highway and took the road to the cabins. She couldn’t see Ryder’s vehicle now, as it had turned well before her, and he’d be parking in his driveway. Knowing the way, she slowed and drove in the opposite direction. Her cabin sat like an empty hearth with no welcoming warmth or lights to greet her. It looked cold and deserted. She pulled into the driveway and the feeling of someone watching her swamped her again. She bent over to retrieve her things and to cover her face in case anyone was hiding in the shadows and could see her speaking to someone. “Is everyone in position? I don’t like walking into a dark house. I should’ve left a light on.”
“We’re here.”Styles sounded as if he was beside her.“Leave your com open, so we can hear you’re okay.”
Beth gathered her things and looking all around, reached for the door. “Copy.”
Shivers brushed her like spiderwebs with each crunching step along the path to the front door. The wind rustled the trees and moved shadows. Could someone be there watching her? Gathering her courage, she pushed down the fear. No one knew she was here. No one had followed her. She’d kept an eye on her rearview mirror the entire journey, so why was she so jumpy? Something deep inside her had triggered her fight-or-flight response and sent her a warning something wasn’t right. Fumbling with the key, she found the lock and opened the door. It whined in complaint just to add to the creepy atmosphere. The front door opened up directly into the living room. Swallowing hard, Beth ran her hand down the wall searching for the light switch. Dim yellow light streamed from a dusty bulb hanging from a length of wire in the middle of the room. The fireplace had logs stacked beside it in a bucket and the fire was laid, ready to light. To one side sat a wooden rocking chair, and a threadbare rug covered the floor before a padded deep red sofa. No TV, but a bookshelf held a few dusty volumes. She stood for a few moments, scanning every nook and cranny for a place someone could hide. Behind the drapes, maybe? The heavy drapes were closed and reached the floor but surely, she’d notice a bulge if someone had concealed themselves behind them?
Stepping inside, she kicked the door shut behind her and dropped her things onto the sofa. Being cautious was her middle name and she walked from room to room to ensure the house was empty. It was a small cabin with not many places a man could hide, and yet her attention constantly moved to the shadows. The creepy feeling that someone was watching her remained and she gave herself a mental shake. She needed to keep awake, there’d be no sleeping tonight, not when the feeling of doom surrounded her. Heading for the kitchen, she found the bag of supplies Styles had left on the counter and set up the coffee pot.
“Cough if all is well.”Styles’ voice came through her earpiece startling her.
Spilling coffee over the counter, she coughed and then froze. Floorboards creaked in the living room and a shiver of fear slid down her spine and curled around her tailbone. Unarmed and without as much as a hatpin to defend herself, she eased away from the counter and turned toward the bedroom. Styles had left his backup weapon in the bedside table. Wind buffeted the house and the old shutters creaked and banged against the wall.Maybe it was just the wind?
Moving as casually as possible, Beth walked along the passageway to the bedroom, she closed the door and went straight to the bedside table. When her hand closed around the Sig, she smiled. A P938 BRG Micro-Compact was an excellent choice as a backup weapon and she slid it into the belt of her jeans and pulled down her sweater over it. Sure that the creaks were the wind making noises in an unfamiliar place, she headed back to the kitchen to clean up the spilled coffee grounds. The smell of coffee soon filled her nostrils but so did the smell of smoke. Turning away from the counter, she headed for the living room and stopped dead in the doorway staring in disbelief. The rocking chair creaked back and forth and a curl of smoke rose from the fireplace. A rush of fear gripped her by the throat and she reached for the pistol in the back of her jeans. Before she could grab the handle, pain shot through her head and she fell to her knees with spots dancing before her eyes. The com dropped from her ear and spun across the floor leaving her alone with a serial killer. The weapon was ripped from her jeans and someone shoved her hard in the back sending her face first to the dusty floor.
“Don’t move.” A man squatted down beside her. “Nice pistol. Too bad you don’t know how to use it.” He pushed the gun into the belt of his pants and pulled out a knife. He brandished it in front of her eyes, so close she could smell his cigarette-tainted fingers. “This is so much more fun and not so noisy. I’ve even lit the fire so we can be cozy. Nothing too good for my darlings.”
Sickened by his singsong, deluded speech, Beth gritted her teeth. How did he get into the house? Down but not out, Beth shook her head to clear her blurred vision. She had one small advantage: he wouldn’t be reckoning on facing someone like her. He was used to women being terrified and trying to get away. Standing and fighting back would confuse him and she’d use that in her favor. She’d faced worse serial killers than him and survived. When he ran a hand over her backside and hummed in appreciation, anger blocked out terror. In one swift movement, Beth rolled onto her back and swung a kick to the man’s head. It connected with his hideous zombie mask and sent him sprawling onto the floor. Dizzy, she bounced to her feet and raised her voice. “Nine one one. Nine one one.” Her com had been open when it fell from her ear and only time would tell if Styles had heard her call for help.
Right now, she must fight for survival by leaving the FBI agent behind and facing him serial killer to serial killer. Only one of them would survive. She shook her head to stop the room from shifting and stomped on the man’s wrist but instead of dropping the knife, his fingers closed tight around it. Not beaten and as strong as a bull, he pushed to his knees, cursing and lashing out with the blade. The eyes that peered at her through the mask were black and unbalanced. His focus was on killing her now and there would be no stopping him. Beth jumped back, tripped over the rug, and sprawled heavily on the floor. The air rushed from her lungs, and gasping she tried to scramble away but his hand closed around her ankle like a vise. His big powerful body loomed over her as he dragged her closer, slashing with the knife. The sharp blade sliced across her stomach, coming so close the cold steel brushed her flesh. She kicked out, slamming him in the face with her heel. As he dropped, she jumped to her feet, lifted one knee and thrust the heel of her boot into his kidney. The strike would have felled most men but not him. As he cried out in pain, his head snapped around to stare at her, the mouth visible through the mask bared in a feral grin.
“Oh, I’m so gonna enjoy killing you.” As he slashed the knife at her, he struggled to get his knees under him. “It’s gonna be slow and painful. I might skin you alive.”
At his threat, Beth’s dark side rose like a protective barrier. Her sight sharpened and everything became clear, like an eagle zooming in on its prey from a great height. One mistake now and he would kill her before Styles ran one hundred yards. Murder happened fast, in seconds, and Beth embraced her psychopath and used her instinct to survive. She must attack while he was down, it was her only chance.
Jumping left to right to avoid the blade, Beth rounded on him and aimed a kick between his legs from behind. As he cursed and doubled up, releasing the knife, she straddled his back and heard the breath rush out of him in a groan. After tossing away the weapon, she elbowed him between the shoulder blades, once, twice, and then grabbed his head and slammed his face into the floor. He bucked under her, moaning and it was her turn to laugh. Her vicious blows had slowed him down enough for her to pull the pistol from his belt. She stared at the door. Where the heck was Styles? Ignoring her attacker’s threats of disembowelment, she ripped off his mask and gaped at the man with disbelief.Joseph Crenshaw.
She pressed the muzzle of the pistol into his ear, so wanting to make him pay. “How do you like it when a woman fights back? Painful, isn’t it? You see, in a fight for survival there are no rules. We fight dirty. It’s the food chain and right now you’re on the bottom. How does that make you feel, Crenshaw? I bet your wife will be so proud when she discovers your taste for the macabre. How did you explain the stink of death on you?”
“Get off me.” Crenshaw rolled and cried out as she landed another solid blow to the base of his neck. “Enough, okay?” He held his arms out in front of him in surrender. “Who the hell are you?”
Not taking any chances, Beth pressed the pistol into the back of his head. “FBI. You’re through killing strippers. This is the end of the line.”
“I’ll kill you the second I’m free.” Crenshaw’s spittle sprayed the floor. “You’ve got nothin’ on me.”
